A/N: Ok guys! I'm back and I'm pleased with the warm welcoming and positive reactions that I've received so far. Thanks to everyone for being so receptive as I jump into a new fan forum. And like I said, once my writer's block clears on my Terra Nova stuff I'll be back to writing that too. This chapter is Hal-centric and we'll get to see exactly why he came after Lourdes. Please review!

PS: I really dislike the mechanic guy. He's throwing off the potential for my story to mirror canon plotlines. I'm not happy. And the Hal/Maggie thing? It's interesting, but c'mon! She's like four or five years older than him and she's hinting that she wants to have sex with him. Can anyone spell creepy? Though I do like Maggie so I'll write her a free pass for now…

He did his best to stay focused on the road ahead of the motorcycle, not on the mechs that were no doubt closing in from behind somewhere, not on the mounting fear that he had no idea where they were headed, just that he had to keep himself and Lourdes safe and hidden.

He felt her tighten her grip around him and hazarded a glance back to ensure she wasn't on the verge of falling off the bike. She looked wary, but a bit calmer now that they were away from the immediate vicinity of the robotic killers. Hal's mind raced, desperately trying to reconstruct where he was and how to get back to camp in his head. The results weren't comforting. They were pinned down, the mechs having cut off the only route back.

He'd passed the robots on his way in, spotting them off in the distance but closing in steadily. Something had told him to keep going though, that he wouldn't regret it. His instructions had been simple: to find Lourdes and bring her back to camp. Well, he'd done half of his assignment.

Up ahead, in the sky, a beamer appeared, its blue lights scanning the ground, no doubt searching for them. Thinking fast, he put the headlight out and felt Lourdes tremble behind him.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as loudly as he dared. He felt her nod against his back. "Hang on!" he advised. And then he gunned the bike and veered off the roadway at the first street he spotted, a dusty, dirt road that lead to God-only-knew-where. But one thing was for sure: it was safer than staying on the main road, just waiting to be found by the patrols.

"What's going on?" Lourdes suddenly asked.

"Shh!" he hushed her, stopping the bike and cutting the engine off as the beamer flew overhead. "Get down!" he gently guided her down into the grass and weeds at the roadside, shielding her beneath him. The searchlight swept over the street once, twice, three times. The ship was hovering directly over the motorcycle. He heard a faint whirring noise, like something revving up. "Shit!" he breathed. "Lourdes, we gotta move."

"Hal, I can't!"

"Come on!" he scooped her up bridal style and took off running. Seconds later, a loud explosion rang out and he knew there was no going back. The motorcycle was gone. Somehow, they'd either spotted them before he had a chance to ditch it or…they had known it had been used recently and targeted it specifically.

His first instinct was to find a hiding place, a shelter of some sort or at least some tall grass where they'd be hidden from the searchlights. The dirt road appeared to have been part of a farm at one point, with open fields for miles around. Thankfully, they were overgrown and were able to afford the two shelter from any immediate threats. When he estimated they'd been running for a half hour, he slowed down, glancing up to make sure that nothing had tailed them. The sky was empty. He set Lourdes down in a sitting position, dropping down beside her to catch his breath.

"What do we do now?" she asked, voice laced with panic. She looked terrified as she glanced from side to side.

"We have to find shelter, someplace to lay low and plan out our next move," he said simply, trying to downplay the severity of the situation for her benefit as well as his own.

"Where are we?"

"I wish I knew. How's your leg?" he switched topics, though her injury was a pressing concern.

Lourdes nodded toward her pant leg, the denim material torn up but the injury obstructed from view. "It still throbs but…I don't know. I have to see it."

"Hang on," he reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a switchblade. Her eyes widened. "Just relax and hold still," he commanded.

"Hal, what are you…?"

"Relax," he soothed. "Do you trust me?"

Lourdes nodded.

"Then just hold still." He flicked the blade out and gingerly cut away at her jean leg, removing the piece that covered her injured leg.

She glanced at the injury. Her shin was a dark shade of purple, swollen from the knee down to the ankle. She felt the area gingerly, concluded that the bone was still intact. "Probably just a fracture," she said, trying to downplay it.

"I had one of those once," Hal grimaced. "Not fun."

Lourdes' head tilted curiously in his direction. "How'd you get it?"

He smirked, obviously embarrassed to recount the story. "We were at lacrosse practice…some of the guys were goofing around, swinging their sticks and I took a hit straight in the shin. Hard."

She laughed despite herself. "That must've hurt."

"Well it didn't feel good," he agreed, laughing himself. "We should probably find something to set that with." He looked to her leg.

"I don't see anything we could use…" She glanced about, but tall weeds and grass were the only things visible for miles.

With one last look to the sky, Hal finally rose to a squatting position. "We'd best find some shelter for the night. Those beamers are still out there looking for us."

She made a move to rise but he stopped her. "I'm no expert, but I don't think it's such a good idea for you to start walking yet," he said.

"I'm fine," she assured, rising unsteadily to her feet. He caught her as she started to fall.

"I can see that," he noted with a grin before scooping her up the way he had on their run from the beamer. They walked for what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, before finally reaching an old farmhouse, standing solitary and silent in the midst of the fields.

"It's as good a place as any," he said as they cautiously crept up the front steps. "I don't think the skitters will expect us to hide out in here. It looks abandoned."

The house was a faded shade of yellow, its green shutters sagging and dangling. The wrap-around porch was screened in, the storm door long since torn off its hinges. In the porch area, an old glider rocked gently in the breeze. If it weren't for the devastation around them, the setting would have been peaceful and quaint. Hal set her down on the glider. "Wait here, I'm gonna go find a way inside. Shout if you need me." She nodded her consent and he disappeared around the back of the house.

He wasn't surprised that the structure was still standing. After all, the attacks had been focused on the major cities, on dealing as many casualties as possible. But whoever had occupied this farmhouse had long since left, leaving behind the dilapidated residence. Hal noted that the building seemed secure, a curse in the sense that it would be difficult to find a way in, a blessing in the sense that once they found one, they'd be safe. Finally, he found what he was looking for. On the second floor of the home, a window air-conditioner was visible, the box-like, metallic object protruding from the house. Without a second thought, he seized hold of the drainpipe, shimmying his way up it until he could reach the roof of the porch. Using that as a catwalk, he half-crept, half-crawled to the point beneath the window he was targeting.

With both hands, he seized the air-conditioning unit and pulled with all his might, nearly falling over when the rusted object came free of its rotted seal. But with the unit moved, he could crawl in through the upper floor window, which he did, replacing the air conditioner after him.

The house smelled musty and unlived in. He found himself in what was obviously supposed to be a child's room. The faded shade of blue on the walls, the clouds that were so painstakingly painted onto the ceiling, the racecar border that ran around the walls and matched the bedspread on the twin-sized mattress—it reminded him of Matt's room in their old house, the one they'd lived in just before this whole mess started. For a minute, he was paralyzed, struck with a sensation of nostalgia and the feeling that he was intruding on someone else's deeply personal life. But the thought of Lourdes still waiting for him on the porch, helpless, drove him to leave the room and pick his way carefully down the creaky steps. The living room looked to be a decent size, with a fireplace and some over-stuffed couches. In terms of shelter, this was far cozier than anything he would have dared to hope for. He opened the door of the house, stepping out onto the screened in porch where Lourdes was warily waiting for him.

"You alright?" he asked. She nodded and he lifted her into the house, setting her down on one of the over-stuffed sofas. "There's no one here," he told her. "I'm gonna go check the house for any supplies." She nodded and he left her again.

A brief search of the kitchen turned up some basic cooking utensils and a few knives that would come in handy if they needed to defend themselves. The stove was electric, which meant there was no hope of using it for anything. The refrigerator was full of perishables, long since expired, but in the cupboards he found some crackers and other non-perishable snack foods, as well as a box of matches. The basement turned out to be the real treasure of the home, full of canned goods and sealed bottles of water, not to mention clean clothes and cosmetic products like soap and toothpaste, all purchased and stockpiled down there with the assumption that the family would eventually use them. The upstairs linen closet turned up some medical supplies but little else.

The garage provided another pleasant surprise. Two full gas cans sat in the corner by the recycling pile, full of old newspapers. If he could find a motorcycle or even a tractor or some old pickup on the grounds, he could get them out.

When Hal returned to the living room, he found that Lourdes had dropped off to sleep, no doubt exhausted after everything she'd been through. He carried her gently up the stairs and lay her down gently in the child's room. He was about to shut the door when he heard her voice peep out. "Hal?"

He opened the door wider and returned to her. "Yeah?"

"Don't leave," she whispered hoarsely. "I...I don't want to be alone."

He paused, hesitating, then nodded slowly. "I won't." He held the frightened girl's hand, running a calloused thumb across her knuckles until she fell back asleep. She was quite pretty in her sleep, appearing serene and innocent.

What the hell, man? Snap out of it! This was no time to consider how beautiful Lourdes looked in her sleep. He was told to find her and bring her back and that's what he intended to do. And then he was going to find Karen and bring her back too. But you can't deny that you think she's beautiful. Isn't that why you came after her in the first place? No. He'd come after her because that's what Weaver told him to do, and because Anne was so shaken by her disappearance, and because that's what his father would have done. He'd come after her because he'd already let one girl get taken by the skitters and dammit he wouldn't let another one get harnessed too. He came after her because people needed her help. Anne was the only trained medical professional left and Lourdes' experience in pre-med was a tremendous asset to the 2nd Mass. He'd come after her for practical reasons, for the benefit of the group as a whole, and because it was the right thing for a decent human being to do. Not because he found her beautiful. Then why the hell are you even here? Why are you taking care of her?

Because her leg was injured. She couldn't walk. She was helpless. He would have taken her straight back to camp if the mechs hadn't cut him off and forced him to hole up in this farmhouse. What else could he have done? And as soon as her leg healed well enough for her to walk or he found a new means of transportation, he'd take her back and this whole thing would be over. Plain and simple. But you can't deny that she's beautiful. And that much was true. Lourdes was beautiful. Hal ended up falling asleep in the room that night, slumped against the bedpost with one hand still enclosed around hers, the other resting atop his gun. First thing in the morning, I'm finding a way out of here...

A/N: Some conflicting feelings for Hal? I'd say so…It always confused me why he wouldn't go for Lourdes. Maybe it's a personal thing, but I think the actress who plays Karen is a bit creepy looking, in a spaced-out sort of way. Or maybe it was just the harness scene in the season premiere. Either way, she reminded me of Isabelle Fuhrman in Orphan. "There's something wrong with Esther…I mean Karen…" Anyway, again I'd like to thank you guys for the lovely reviews. Hal/Lourdes stories are my absolute favorite in this fanfiction section and I strongly encourage all you sailors on the Hal/Lourdes ship to write your own stuff. Keep the reviews coming, guys, and I'll keep churning out more so long as there's still interest. Any way, I'm aware it isn't the greatest, but it's 1:30 AM and I'm trying to update before you all die of suspense! So please try not to be too disappointed. I feel like it'll be tough to top the initial response but I'm having fun writing this and I hope you guys are still enjoying the ride!

PS: Sadly, it appears I'm going to have to brand this with the dreaded AU tag. Especially if Jamil keeps ruining things. I mean seriously, I knew a GIRL named Jamil. And cut your hair, man! What's with the dreads? (Sorry, I just hate it when the canon writers derail my antics.)